Summer's End (Wildflowers #5) - Jill Sanders Page 0,56

the bottle.

Aubrey saw Bridgett’s eyes grow big.

“No, thank you,” Dr. Williams said as he hung up.

“So, doc.” Aiden leaned back and slowly poured a glass of her father’s favorite bourbon. She knew he wasn’t going to really drink it, not if he suspected, as she did, that Bridgett had put something in it. “I’m just wondering, what sort of things could cause these sorts of symptoms in a seemingly healthy man?”

“I’m sorry, young man.” Dr. Williams turned to him. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh.” She moved forward. “I’m sorry, this is my boyfriend Aiden Stark. Aiden, Dr. Williams.” Aubrey touched Aiden’s arm. “He flew out here this morning with me when we heard…”—she shifted—“that my father wasn’t feeling well.” She decided quickly to keep her father’s little game quiet.

Dr. Williams held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said genuinely. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Aubrey here, but she looks healthy and happy.” He dropped his hand and moved over to once again stare down at her father. He leaned over and looked into her father’s eyes. “Well, his eyes are milky and bloodshot; he seems disoriented and confused.” He glanced at her. “He can’t seem to remember what day it is but knows that there’s a party going on in the next room.”

“I told you. He’s only tired,” Bridgett asserted once again.

“And you?” Dr. Williams turned to the woman. “You are?”

Bridgett gasped. “I’m his fiancée.” She touched Harold’s shoulder again and squeezed it as if to wake the man out of his stupor.

“Which is a funny thing itself. I spoke with Harold just last week; he didn’t mention having a fiancée.”

“We just announced our engagement tonight,” Bridgett said with a smile.

Dr. Williams turned to Aubrey. “Did you know about this?”

“Not a clue. I didn’t even know Bridgett, who is the ex-wife of my friends’ deceased father, was in New York and not on the stage in Las Vegas. Or that my father was seeing someone.”

Dr. Williams was quiet for a moment before turning to Bridgett. “Are you staying here?” he asked the woman.

“I don’t see how this is any of your business?” she gasped.

“Medical records.” He pulled a notepad from his bag. “Harold has certain medical needs, prescriptions that he has been taking for years. I’m sure the police will need to know who is responsible for ensuring that he takes them daily.”

Bridgett visibly paled at this and slid into one of the leather chairs.

“Do you think… that he messed up his prescriptions?” Bridgett asked. “I’ve warned him to label those things.”

“Aubrey,” Aiden interrupted holding up the decanter of bourbon. “Do you want a drink?” He poured a new glass for her. Everyone in the room saw Bridgett’s eyes narrow as she watched Aiden’s movements.

“Sure.” She moved over to the bar area, took the offered glass, and then held it up to her lips. Instantly, she frowned down at the amber liquid. “I think this bourbon had gone bad.” She jerked the glass away from her face and made a show of giving a disgusted face.

She hadn’t smelled anything, but by the way Bridgett was watching her, she knew without a doubt that if the woman had slipped her father something, it was in the bourbon, and if they didn’t call it out now, before the ambulance came for her father, that the container would be cleaned.

“Let me.” Dr. William walked over and took the glass from her, then stuck his finger into the liquid and tasted it. The doctor immediately spit into the trash can. “. I gave Harold a prescription for it a few months back.” He frowned down at the glass. Then he walked over to pick up the Waterford decanter and smelled the remaining liquid. “Enough in here to paralyze an elephant.”

Just then there was a knock on the door and Martha rushed in. “There’s an ambulance,” she said to the room, her eyes going over the entire scene. “Oh, is there something wrong with Mr. Smith?”

“Show them in here,” Dr. Williams said, taking the container with him. “I’ll have this tested to make sure.”

The medics arrived and the doctor stood aside to give them access. Just then Bridgett jumped up and rushed to Harold’s side, knocking the decanter out of the doctor’s hands in the process. It hit the carpet with a thud and most of the liquid spilled out of it before the doctor could pick it back up.

“Harold,” Bridgett cried as the medics strapped him onto the